


Cream Soda, Ginger Ale, and HIV Tests

by Diary



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Abortion, Awesome Molly Hooper, Awkward Conversations, Bechdel Test Pass, Canon Character of Color, Gen, Late Night Conversations, Love, POV Multiple, Post-Episode: s03e01 The Empty Hearse, Sally Donovan & Greg Lestrade Friendship, Sherlock Holmes & Molly Hooper Friendship, Unsafe Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-15
Updated: 2016-04-15
Packaged: 2018-06-02 08:07:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6558799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Diary/pseuds/Diary
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock makes a bad situation worse for Sally, and then, he recruits Molly to help make it better. Complete.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cream Soda, Ginger Ale, and HIV Tests

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own Sherlock.

For more than a week, Greg has been debating whether he should say something to Sally, and if so, what exactly.

It’s honestly something of a relief when Sherlock breezes in and inquires in front of the whole station (because, of course, he would), “Are you planning on carrying the pregnancy to term, DS Donovan, and if so, who is the father?”

'Something of a relief', being the key words, naturally.

Sally doesn’t do anything drastic such as smashing Sherlock’s face into the ground or drawing her gun, but- if it were anyone but Sherlock, he’d never let them get away with publicly ambushing one of his officers with such an invasive question. Moreover, no man should come into a woman’s place of work and demand such things.

“Sherlock!"

Getting Sherlock into his office, he closes the door before the questions can continue.

“You were wondering,” Sherlock points out. “And now, you know. It’s not Anderson.”

 _Thank God_ , is not something he’ll be saying out loud.

“That,” he firmly declares, “is not something you can do, Sherlock.”

“Why?”

Trying to explain things such as common decency, right to privacy, and how this really could cause Sally a minefield of problems is something John might be up to, but he isn’t.

“I’m calling John,” he mutters. “And you’re staying here until he comes to fetch you, or I’m putting you in a cell.”

…

After Sherlock is gone, Sally comes into his office, shuts the door, and sighs. “I planned to call in sick on Sunday. Now, I’m telling you I have a doctor’s appointment then.”

He nods. “Right. Sally-”

Shaking her head, she looks at him with tired eyes. “It’s done. I’m just glad he doesn’t actually want revenge. Imagine how I’d end up then.”

He knows there’s not much he can say. For all the years he’s fought to keep her in his division, he’s accepted there’s probably going to come a time when, because of him and London desperately needing Sherlock, she’s going to leave.

Of all the things Sherlock has done, this is probably the worst.  

“Is there anything I can do,” he asks and prays her answer won’t be another round of ‘get rid of the freak’.

“No,” is her simple answer.

She starts to leave.

“Sally. I am sorry. What Sherlock did-”

“It probably would have come out, anyways,” she interrupts. “No such thing as privacy, nowadays, is there?”

He’s not sure he agrees. “Sally, I’m not trying to pry, but- are you alright? Is there anything I need to know, or that you want to tell me?”

Briefly, he considers suggesting she talk to Molly. He imagines she would probably handle this situation better than he’s managed to.

Sally gives him a slight smile. “I’m fine, sir. I just- I’m just trying to process the fact _that_ just happened. Anyway, I’ll be back on Monday, and I don’t want to hear anything from you.”

“Understood,” he agrees.

…

Sherlock Holmes corners her in the car park.

It’s dark outside, and she briefly considers jabbing her flat key into his eye, elbowing and kneeing him, and smashing his face into the ground.

He might be able to defend himself, though, and DI Lestrade wouldn’t buy her excuse of automatically reacting in defence to a creepy, unknown stranger. In addition, even if he lets her get away with a little more after what happened this afternoon, he’d likely draw the line at such grievous bodily damage to his precious little sociopath.

“What is it with you and married men, Sally,” he asks in his smug, almost singsongy, undeniably misogynistic way.

Huffing, she fingers her key. “I’m not going to stand here and listen to you tear me down.”

“Is that what you think I’m trying to do?”

He sounds genuinely curious, and even as she tells herself just to walk away, she finds herself asking, “What do you call it?”

“Curiosity,” he answers. “You’re a good officer, Detective Sergeant. Of course, you’re intelligence levels are nowhere near mine, but you are very intelligent. Empathetic, physically fit, and good with handling weapons. Why do you persist in entangling yourself with unsuitable men?”

The worst part is he sounds how she imagines her mum would sound if her mum knew about certain things about her.

She can’t accuse him of taking Anderson away from her. Even before Anderson became a completely different person from the one she fell in love with, he was never hers. He was married, and for all the guilt she felt for doing something she knew was wrong, she let herself do it.

He was her best friend, and when he kissed her- even if she could never have all of him, she wanted more of him. She wanted as much as she could get.

She can’t accuse him of taking Anderson away from her, but she almost does.

_I watched him change for the worst, and I couldn’t stop it. I couldn’t help him. He stopped caring about me. He stopped caring about the job he loved. He finally left his wife, except, actually, it was her who left him, and it was because of you instead of me._

_I still love him, but he stopped loving me because of you._

None of this should have made her so stupid, though, and she’ll agree wholeheartedly with Sherlock Holmes on this assessment.

She’d gotten drunk in a bar, went to a hotel with a man who had a faint white line on his left ring finger, and used absolutely no protection.

If there is a God out there, she swears, aside from cases where physical force to restrain a suspect is necessary, she’ll never, ever do anything more than shake hands with a married man if she can please just be healthy.

Being pregnant- when she was younger, she’d be freaking out nonstop, and even now, it’s far, far from ideal, and she knows she’ll probably always feel a certain amount of guilt and regret after Sunday.

But if the pregnancy is the only thing, if she doesn’t have a sexually transmitted disease, if she doesn’t test _positive_ \- she swears she’ll figure out how and what she needs to do to turn her life around, and she’ll do it.

“Oh.”

She looks over wearily.

“What have you gotten yourself into, Sally?”

“You tell me,” she snaps before she can stop herself.

Sighing, she starts to walk past. “I don’t have time for this, freak. Go bother-”

She tenses when his hand wraps around her arm.

“Don’t,” she warns with her key poised.

He lets go. “We’re going to take a cab ride.”

She finds herself laughing. “Excuse me?”

“You’re going to see Molly Hooper,” he informs her. “Or I’m going to call Lestrade and Anderson both. There are somethings they’d both find very interesting to hear about.”

“You’re trying to blackmail me?”

“Call it what you will,” he answers. “Shall we get that cab?”

…

Walking into the lab, Molly Hooper sees Sherlock messing about with a microscope, and this is a common enough sight, but DS Donovan standing nearby and looking murderously at him isn't.

“Right.”

She’s proud of herself for not asking, _Why are you bringing one of your biggest detractors around_?

Reminding herself Greg has nothing for good feelings for DS Donovan, she continues, “Hello. Can I help you either of you?”

“Sally needs an HIV test,” Sherlock announces.

Feeling a pang at the look crossing over the other woman’s face, Molly nods. Reaching out, she grabs Sherlock. “You don’t have to leave the building, but you can’t be within ten feet of us until I say so. Now, go.”

He makes a protesting sound, and she continues guiding him towards the door. “No. I insist. Whatever’s going on, while I know you aren’t responsible, you’ll only make things worse.”

She feels a lesser, more familiar pang at his affronted look, but pushing it aside, she waits until he disappears from view.

Turning back around, she tries to smile. “I’m sorry, for whatever he did. Was he right? Do you need an HIV test?”

Sighing, DS Donovan nods her head. “You shouldn’t be dragged into this.”

“Oh, it’s okay,” Molly assures her. “Look- I can’t really control what Sherlock does, unless you’re willing to call Dr Watson in, but I promise you, I’m not going to tell anyone about this.”

Giving her a measuring look, DS Donovan says, “I’m surprised. Even with him being alive, most people still consider me a contributing factor.”

Molly doesn’t know how she’d feel if she didn’t know more about Sherlock’s fake suicide than most people, but now, she feels a surge of anger towards Jim. If not for him, DS Donovan’s attempts to get Sherlock removed wouldn’t have done anything but either amuse or mildly annoy him.

No one deserves to have such a cloud following them.

“Well, that’s not really important right now, is it,” she settles for saying. “I’m going to ask you some personal questions, now, alright?”

DS Donovan nods.

“HIV can be contracted several different ways. Is it sexual contact or drug use you’re worried about? And again,” she assures her, “I’m not going to repeat anything you say.”

She imagines, if DS Donovan is doing drugs, Sherlock already knows or will soon, and if he happens to tell Greg- well, she won’t stop him. 

“I had unprotected sex three weeks ago. I’m pregnant. I know,” DS Donovan says with such bitterness Molly winces, “I should have gotten tested right away. I didn’t.”

“That’s not good,” Molly carefully says, “but- hopefully, it’ll be okay. No, it will be,” she amends. “Whatever the results, you have to remember, this isn’t the end of your life. Now, I don’t have the equipment to do an oral fluid test. I’m going to need a urine and blood sample. Do you need some water for the first? I’ve got crackers and orange juice or some caffeine free fizzy drinks for after.”

DS Donovan shakes her head. “Just point me towards the toilets.”

Handing her a sample cup, Molly does.

Once she comes back, Molly draws the blood. “What would you like to drink? We have most types of caffeine free fizzy drinks here.”

“This is going to sound weird, but could I have some cream soda and ginger ale? I like to mix them up.”

“That’s no problem,” Molly answers with a smile. “I have a friend who likes to mix green tea with iced coffee. To be honest, I thought it might have been an Irish thing, but no, it’s just one of those things. I’ve always liked to dip my jelly babies into vanilla yoguhurt, so,” she says with a shrug.

A smile lights up DS Donovan’s face.

Patting her hand, Molly says, “I’ll be back in a minute.”

Stepping out, she finds a tray containing a package of apple slices, a jar of smooth peanut butter, a glass, two spoons, and two cans, one of cream soda and one of ginger ale, on the floor in the hallway.

Reminding herself how she is well and truly over Sherlock Holmes and resolving to find a particularly gruesome corpse for him to experiment on this weekend, she picks up the tray, waits a minute, and goes back in.

“That was quick,” DS Donovan says in surprise.

“It wasn’t far,” Molly cheerfully tells her. “Here, eat up, and listen to the radio if you want. I’m going to start the testing.”

“Thank you.”

…

“All the tests I’ve done have come up negative,” Molly says. Happy to see DS Donovan’s sigh of relief, she continues, “Which is promising, but you need to get tested by someone with all the proper training and necessary equipment as soon as possible. If you don’t mind asking- you being pregnant-”

“I have an appointment scheduled on Sunday to terminate.”

Molly nods. “Do you mind me asking where? I can probably tell you if they’re suited to do the testing.”

She gives the name of a clinic Molly recognises. “Okay, good. Dr Sharman should be there. She’s a mate from uni. Here’s what you do…”

…

Once DS Donovan is gone, Sherlock reappears.

“I guess it’s good you’re so- about keeping people you’re fond of secret,” she says. Realising she’s reverting to not being able to complete a proper sentence, she takes a breath. “I’m glad she wasn’t one of the people Jim targeted. But it’s a bit odd, isn’t it, you liking her, and her not liking you? Most of the people you like are the ones who see you. And she doesn’t.”

He shrugs, and a small smile crosses his face. “My relationship with Sally is good for both of us.”

“How,” she asks in utter confusion. “Greg is worried she’s going to try smashing your face into the ground one of these days. And she may challenge you, but-” She trails off.

“Speaking of Lestrade,” he says with his eyes suddenly intently focused on her, “have you met his daughter yet?”

“Beth? I met her and her girlfriend a few years ago. They’re very nice,” she tells him. “And Beth is definitely her father’s girl. I think they might be getting married soon.”

As happy as she is about this, she’s also a bit worried about how Greg and his ex-wife will manage to get along. She knows he’ll try his hardest not to let anything spoil his daughter’s big day, but she’s not so sure his ex-wife will put in the same amount of effort.

“Ah.”

Immediately suspicious, she repeats, “Ah?”

He shakes his head, kisses her cheek, and waves goodbye as he leaves.

…

After three months, Sally lets herself relax.

All the tests continue to say _negative_ for everything.

Locking the papers into her desk, she hears Lestrade’s voice loudly declares, “Sherlock, this is my daughter’s first, and hopefully, barring vow renewals, last wedding. It is a very special day. One of the happiest of her life. If you use her fiancée as bait during it-”

“I wasn’t suggesting using her,” the freak protests. “Molly mentioned your ex-wife would be a good candidate-”

“Molly forgot who she was talking to! No, Sherlock, you cannot use anyone at the wedding as bait!”

Looking at her watch, Sally starts counting down until John Watson gets the text Lestrade has no doubt sent and bursts through the doors with fond, exasperated apologises on his lips.


End file.
